Check out Mahogany L. Browne on Music Choice! Her third album, Black Secret Soul, has been added to the R&B Station featuring production by DJ Static, DJ Doughboy, Karega & more! You can still buy THIN SKIN a collection of poems and essays. Buy the Book & CDs HERE

Statement from WQHT-FM, HOT 97
New York City - Miss Jones and the HOT 97 Morning team have been indefinitely suspended for the airing of a song that made light of a catastrophic event, as well as comments made at the time the song was aired.
Earlier this week, Miss Jones said on the air "I apologize to all who have been offended by my poor decision to go along with playing that insulting (to say the least) Tsunami song. I should have known better and I didn't. So I'm sorry and hopefully we can move forward from this, or I can move forward from this being a better hostess, because I am better than that, and I know better than that -- and you deserve better radio than that."
While Miss Jones has apologized on the air, in the media and on the HOT 97 website, station management felt that stronger action was necessary to demonstrate the severity of the situation.
Emmis Radio and HOT 97 will not tolerate such derogatory and racially insensitive content. This incident in no way reflects the spirit of HOT 97. The station has a long-time and well-known reputation for community involvement and support.
Emmis Radio President Rick Cummings said, "What happened is morally and socially indefensible. All involved, myself included, are ashamed and deeply sorry. I know the members of the morning show are truly contrite. They know their actions here are inexcusable." We would like to clarify that no company advertising on our station had any connection to the Tsunami Song and no company advertising on our station endorsed or sponsored the offensive material aired on the "Miss Jones in the Morning" show. We apologize for any misunderstanding that may have caused listeners to believe that anyone, other than the morning show staff, was responsible for the material that should not have been aired.

chris rock said "there are so such things as platonic friendships between women and men. that's just emergency d*ck -- break glass if in need". (not verbatim, but ya get me).

i once thought this was crap! i mean, here i am -- grown woman with majority of men as my comrades and only 5 woman (i counted) that i keep close enough to call "friend." now as a committed woman, i never knew this situation could cause a glitch considering i have always been very open to my mate about my friendships. my friendships with these men have always been platonic (none of those we once slept together, but now we are friends type of ish) and i thought that was enough. but then i have met people (of both sexes) who's friendships with the opposite sex are not as rigid. there are friends that once were lovers. friends that had crushes on each other but never manifested. and friends based on sexual energy and attraction -- never treading into the waters of physical intimacy, but sharing something much more emotionally involved.

i was shocked. naive?...maybe. so i looked up platonic.

adj. transcending sexual desire. purely intellectual or spiritual.

then i looked up friendship.

n. someone who one knows and likes.

i know the taurean in me is unyielding. so help a systa out -- how does this make sense?
now, i know people that use the let's be friends tactic to stay as close as possible to their love refugee. either way i am trying to figure out is it possible for a man and woman to be friends? and i mean, strictly friends. i know i have many male friends with no sexual currents bouncing between us. we share poetry, music, and socio-political interests in common. we talk about sports, news and relationships. so tell me: if i can experience something as pure and innocent as that -- why is it becoming such a problem for me to believe anyone else can?

Friday, January 28, 2005

in denver.
still. much love to my peoples Phya for looking out for my girls
while i look at mountains and try to catch my breath.
the show last nite was bittersweet.
crazy beautiful spot - not many people.
that can b a bit deflating but i had a kick ass band
and we made lemonade with them punk ass lemons!

the last post had me cracking UP! thanks jeep, scatter and matthew! matthew and the puppy kicking -- damn! that was serious!

i was looking at another poet's site (amanda) and i was like raising my fist in the air n ish cause she's addicted to coffee, as am i. starbucks to be exact (whoooooo - look at the disapproving stares!)...
BUT WHAT'S CRAZY IS
i get so many people arguing about how wrong starbucks is - its only 3rd in fair trade list of companies...it annihilates ma and pop spots...yadda yadda yadda.
it's like -- we say this, but how many people sent money to tsunami or better yet, voiced their concern about the NEW YORK HOT 97 spoof song about the tsunami and its victims?
and how many people wear diamonds, gold, shop at major grocery stores, give to the homeless and salvation army?
and how many people inspire, incite or intiate change?

so until you have a list of things you do despite of all your efforts to knock the starbuck's whitechocolatemocha (w/soya) out of my hand -- i suggest you make changes where most needed. assmunch!

random question - talking to my friend the other day. and you know how it is, you sit there and let them spill it and you nod and you are genuine. and she is beautiful and shouldn't be tripping offa nobody (no head swivel, just convicted). and the moment of truth pops up and im like damn. anytime commitement or marriage came up - he went off. don't believe it in, it'll mess ish up, that's the "MANs" definition of together. "dont let them define us baby". so while saying, "girl", 1"you can't settle."
2 "you know what you want and you deserve to be happy"
3 "you can't change no man"

(ya know all the required responses for a sister in distress) i start thinking why are men so afraid of commitement, marriage & monogomy? and what are the signs (yea, the ones we obviously miss) that will save women their time and sanity?

now im sure, its not all men - i have proof (thanks for the hope: 125, dwayne, gaknew & shihan) that it exists and can exist in this world of poetry. but they are a small percentage. and as artists, i'm inclined to know - "what the problem iz?"

Thursday, January 27, 2005

it seems, if we talk about negative ish - i get a landslide of emails. im really not trynna be on some jerry springer ish - but dammit, i will if i have to! don't make me come looking for you!

question for the day:

how do you stop being mad? do you forgive and forget, do you forget theyt exist or do you slam dance on their poetry cd's, wrap a piece of their hair around your old cabbage patch dolls and stick it like a pig?

just working on the resolutions thing and considering anger management.

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

working on some new resolutions...
leave for denver tomorrow
there for 3 days. that's right people -
im leaving the snow for mountains with
MORE SNOW.i know we've been busy people:
final exams, family issues, new year, holidays -- but i miss ya'll...

Monday, January 24, 2005

The problem with Missy and hip pop!I used to think she was innovative. Then I watched her new tv show “on tour with missy” or something as equally wack – and she fires one of the hottest emcees only because he said the beat they had to rhyme over in a previous round was not as hot as he expected. She then kept the one young 18 year old snowy (as in from the mountains) looking chick over him. Not because of talent – obviously, but because he stepped on her toes in them real fly adidas sponsored kicks!

That’s right: it’s not Satan, it’s Taylor!
He is mean. He is worse than the boogeyman. He looks at young poets and goes “BOO! You suck so much I will act like you aren’t alive! BOOGEDY BOO!”
Ok – it’s not that deep, but the richest performance poet (on earth) is just a bit strange. Thought I would go ahead and put that in here for argument’s sake (also, for all the butt kissers of NPS – get a spine; lol)!

* I can “so” hear my NPS membership tearing, as you read this.

Poetry CliquesCliques in poetry are like really bad rap groups – even the “crews” with dope writers and performers. They make private jokes about newcomers, give secretive names but don’t have the balls to say it in the face of their verbal victims and probably post on their blog under some really random psychotic pseudonym “firebytch!” or “clitorizzz” or “misterlittlebigmannn” or “haterpoet” (which is actually my favorite). The reason I don’t dig these crews are not because they have and probably will continue to hate on me in my absence (shower me with your HATE for ya ‘80’s fans), but because I thought the idea of a poetry circuit was to elevate the writing (not just the performance); bridge unity between a group of people that may be divided on music, politics and religion; and hell, here’s a real doozie: be open minded enough to want to learn more about others so that their writing might get BETTER? Instead, we are in the midst of poetry groupies, poetry beef, poetry biters and poets who hate on other poets just to see if they can be the next alpha poet getting’ the loving and attention they never got in high school! Snitches!

To bend or not to bendSo I have been arguing for the past 24 hours with a fellow poet (jive) about the idea of a woman working with someone even though the only reason they may have the opportunity is because of their looks and/or possibility of bedding said woman. Huh? You are thinking: well follow me.

Example A: a beautiful poet with some talent is offered a big position in a role that will introduce her to the world! The executive producer is attracted to said poet. He has invited her to dinner, his mansion, his yacht – no dice. She continues to work with said scumbucket (sorry) because she feels like she learns from him and realizes her association with him will garner her attention in the industry of her choice. She has also made it very clear to said scumbucket that she is NOT interested in him but appreciates their business relationship. Should she:

A) stand up and say kiss this job & shove it, when he presents her with the opportunity of her life (without sex in exchange! Snatch my pearls!) Say her morals and her integrity are worth more than this crap! Then show up to picket his new show with fellow women poets who are tired of men that use business (gasp) to get closer to them. Their signs will have slogans like NO PORK JUST FILLETS! (think about it)
B) Take the job. Keep it professional. Use the position to meet better businesspersons, cut ties as soon as humanely possible with said scum bucket; starts her own sexual harassment-free establishment for aspiring artists.
C) Sleep with said scum bucket. Make a video of the experience, threaten to show his wife if he doesn’t name you his newest president of his company. Laugh at all the tree hugging hippie feminists for thinking they could make a difference without sex!
D) None of the above. Fill in your own answer (in comments section).

so once the guy covered all the cracks (by the doors & windows) the house actually heated up a bit. gangsta!
wake up
take amari to school, just to watch her fall at every turn possible! snow is up to our calves - but there are small paths where neighbors shoveled in front of their house. neet
then we get by the park and a parking lot. no way to walk except thru (remember that kindgergarten "going on a bear hunt" song?) anyway, more falling. amari dropping her pop tart everywhere -- it was a sight to see! i took pics with the digi cam - just cant figure out hot to download the stoopid things! crap

Sunday, January 23, 2005

its like a bad B movie title. i know. its so ridic outside. worst part is -- 4 x 4's can't move. they haven't swept our block since the snow started (only in bedstuy bklyn) so im feelin' a lil cabin feverish - right now. wanted to take amari to mike's diner this morning. thought some of this crap would stop in the middle of the night. wrong!

starting to feel depressed...i hate weather like this! it's so icky. i feel out of control and stagnant. i was trying to clean the house -- make myself busy (lord knows it needs it) but of course, my laundry (which has been 3 weeks and counting) is calling me and i can't go wash clothes if i really wanted to! which i dont, but i know i should - still it doesnt matter.

so i will type all day. act like i write for a living, oh yea i do. well, i will act like i like it. well. sometimes, i do -- most times, i hate it. hate the politics more than the act of writing. hate the lifestyle of a pauper that will have to be endured (even if in the beginning - if you are lucky). i had that slogan: starving artist.

that's such crap! artists should be revered like celebrities. we should have medical and dental. and royalties for writers and poets who use our tactics! yea, we should have child care for those parents like me (holla back sheba, amanda & dasha). we should receive free clothes like celeb's with less artistic value (i.e., lil kim, etc.). we should get the red carpet at poetry events with the paparazzi following our every move (: oh there mahogany goes. buying books at barnes n noble. oh there she goes on her 2nd white chocolate mocha from starbucks! does that means she's not down with the revolution? check back for reports. there's mahogany talking to an audience member too long. whoa - he's just kissed her hand! is there trouble at home? read star magazine page 16).

hell yea. i can see it!

well back to being bored in a bklyn building... boooo! maybe i will go make coffee. dammit, still no cream! :(

so we are getting rid of our cat, cosita. we have two - kitkat is the oldest. she's a very attention hungry, excessive purring, hairball having cat i've ever had but cosi (ta) is the most anti-social, cutest, white pawed kitten one has ever seen. cost is so not a good pet as she sleeps under the bed all day, refuses to play with anyone but the guy and only eats and sh*t. she also is a terrible mouse catcher: whenever a mouse comes out to play (courtesy of all this frekkin snow!) cosi is conveniently absent until kitkat has played handball with the mouse's body against our wall. we live in nyc - the city built on rat's nest and when a mouse finds it way into our home - the pet must become protector of the fortress and handle dat shyt. im scared of mice and i have a kid. unfortunately, letters and mice skeletons hand delivered to the land lord have not made the problem disappear so i have dealt with the situation like any californian turned new yorker: jump on the furniture and curse the landlord! (ed note: the guy is the deceasedmousecleaneruper - if it wasnt for him - and the lawd - i would never sleep a wink)!

things i do after the mouse is caught.

1 - cover all door openings
2 - pick up shoes (i love my shoes, do you know how traumitized i would be if i found anything in my shoes?
3 - pick up backpacks
4 - make sure trash is emptied (thank god - i took it down already).
5 - shake my sheets on the bed (i told you im scared dammit)
6 - search craigslist for the umpteenth time. desperately seeking 3 bedroom for less than 1500. yea right - fukn thank you ny for the uprise in gentrified bklyn and harlem housing areas!
7 - search dvd collection for a funny film: how high, undercover brother, old school... yes! old school!
8 - go back to pretending my foot is not falling asleep tucked under my big ass in this too tiny chair

Saturday, January 22, 2005

its cold in this house. saw my breath before me when walking to bathroom,
where i pretended to brush my teeth.
im was hungry. wanted to splurge on the cheapest breakfast in the land at my favorite diner in
fort greene, but its cold --the streets are covered with ice and so are my nipples.

i hate the cold! im a cali girl, dammit! so i make a pot of coffee (no cream in the house) so i settle on skim milk, pop 3 eggo's in the toaster, nuke a turkey frank add mustard to my plate
and yummmmmm...

feelin kinda poor this morning... that is until i watch amari make her own eggo breakfast
to supplement the huge bowl of cereal she scarved down during cartoons. that's when i see -- that this may be our richest breakfast ever...

Friday, January 21, 2005

Taught to be killers
they were
Allergic
to the stench
Of torn humans
Images
burned into iris
So dark with despair
they lay like rag dolls
while these camouflaged soldiers judged
injuries -- merely filthy
breathe -- disposable
Flesh wounds burned of memories
While weapons with alphabets and serial numbers
Scraped on their abdomen
Screamed enviously from oiled tongues
Sentencing fallen souls
to an afterlife
of Gods

listening to slum village. i love that damn song -- that beat -- that concept.

here in bklyn where the freeze is crazy painful! went to the bank this morning to exchange currency -- almost broke my ankles when i stepped out the ride! no wonder amari snuggles beneath the covers and says "i hate school! it's too cold outside!"
i can dig it lil mama!
but i have an assignment for my peoples dave & reebok... do i hear angels' wings? dave is definitely my guardian angel. been down since i touched down 5 years ago -- even though he left me stranded at the jfk airport for 3 hours (flat tire my ass) till i jumped on the good foot and found my girl from oakland residing in bedstuy for the summer -- talk about luck.

ahhh yea -- the most beautiful boogeymannnnn! sing it mos def with yo non singing self! love that song too...
had class with my girls at the DA's office. crazy times we're living in people. grab a young person whenever you can and take them to get a slice or listen to their poetry or rap or whatever. give them your ear, they need it!

feelin' inspired -- which is rarely the case these days... so i gotta go write and take advatntage of the free ride! im still waiting on my people to sign the questions section below. i gave scatterbrane the first copy (no two copies, homie! i dont care if you entered ya info twice, lol!). got 2 more books to give away. and i dont want people emailing me (like last time) while i love your emails. this blog is supposed to incite conversations within the community... we can talk all day long (trust me i got the gums for that) but i would love to invite the cats who view my blog everyday (i love yall for that) a chance to respond to whatever moves them!

5 favorite personal tragedies: (not favorite - but memorable)
crashing my mother's brand new car at the age of 16
the day my junior prom date revealed he was gay
watching the WTC crumble from my living room window
choosing poetry as a career instead of the role as his housewife
teaching poetry to teenage pregnant girls -- the turnover rate is every 3 months

5 favorite personal victories:
surviving in New York without any family for the past 4 years
raising my daughter alone
completing my first book of essays and poems
completing my first european tour
learning to love after mending a broken heart

5 favorite (auto)biographies:
Elaine Brown: A Taste Of Power – A Black Woman’s Story
Miles Davis: Miles
The autobiography of Malcom X
Hilary Clinton Rodham: Living History
Assata: An Autobiography

don't you love being right? i think that may be my downfall! lol
but i am happy. beneath all this snow and cold weather. the radiator hisses
like rattlers in India, I watch him sleep before finding my spot under the weight of his arm.
life is serious sometimes. makes you appreciate it like the grandmother you never told you
"i love you" to, enough times. already, i see her smile. she would be proud, displeased of my behavior -- sweating the small stuff (i mean, it really is just small stuff). she would tell me this.
been online for days now. i love it when ya'll comment and hit me on the Instant Messenger. give me insight to your life. better yet, a life outside this damn house!
so i have an invitation. to the first 5 people who answer the questions below will receive a free copy of my new book THIN SKIN (signed and delivered)! how is that for an incentive (hey -- you can sell it on ebay once im famous AND/OR dead! i just found my grandma's signed copy of root's by alex haley!)

color me badd but color me beautiful,

mahogany

answer the questions would ya?

what are you wearing?

what are you listening to (cd)?

what book are you reading?

what poem/screenplay/story/song are you working on?

who is your favorite artist?

who is your favorite poet & why?

if you could come back as a woman or man which gender would you choose and why?

what is the strangest thing you know?

what do you smell like right now (yes now!)?

who are you thinking about?

describe your most prized position (inanimate).

what movie did you just watch and were there any beautiful parallels to the universe?

what was your last dream like?

if you were stranded (i know i hate this one too but,) on an island and could bring only 3 things - what would it be and why?

what it is people! i have been having one of those days, er, months, er years?
whatever. its funny as hell (well i have to laugh so i don't off somebody!)
but things are looking up. met with my people's claudia this morning. had tea and toast with lemon curd (i know - had no idea it was the bomb either) and we talked about the politics of poetry. life and loving your art so much that you will quit everything that comes close to stifling its growth -- people included. finishing up the book destroy...and i go record for the album ...something beautiful next week. i'm real open! feel like singing (off key) ain't no mountain high enough! ahem.

also feeling good about working with some systa's dasha from milwaukee and sonya from dc. we have this women's show we are working on... after dwayne crossed our paths -- we couldn't just let the fire die between us. too black. too woman. to strong. what!?

i feel like i died and went to poetic heaven. got a no seatbelt ticket yesterday. pissed about that. finally cleaned out my email box. tossed the trash away -- kept only positive emails. still thinking about how to be the bigger person. some people can bring out the worse in you, but i digress. live is good. live is good. it is -- i know it is! amari has a field trip to the UN tomorrow and i have submitted a package for their women's conference this year. cross ya fingers for me! counting down the days til im in london again. owe my girl sammy some jivvy corn bread boxes! and i'm a woman of my word.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

ive seen it all...
poets who praise martin luther king
then provoke physical altercations because someone stepped on their shoes.

poets who speak about love and respect
then offer sexual favors as a means to feel better about themselves

it's hit the fan ya'll. 2005 has started off with guns blazing and our word slangers contradicting themselves. i ain't no saint. i am insecure. and untrusting and perfectly imperfect. but i strive for more. i strive for an awakening. amongst my people. and women. a uprising against the unjust. i am working my fingers to the nub for a little something more. i want my daughter to be happy in her skin. happy with her life. happy with her choices, no matter how much they hurt. i want her to believe in herself - because i believe in her. because i believe in her.

i figure if i say it more than once it'll become like a mantra -- and just happen! im so mad at myself for giving people more credit than they have due. i want to slap the shyt outta people on principle. for mistaken kindness for weakness. it feels better -- the instant gratification of a slap in the face. but i've tried to leave that ghetto ish alone. so i think about the good things in life. amari
myfriends
mygirlstarringinthehbofilmeverydaypeople
mypeopleshavingababygirl125&amy
mylove
meetingbeautifulwomenlikedashafrommilwakee&sonyafromdc
learningdwayneandtamlawillmarry
i think about that...remember the girls that i am working with.
remember the kids i work with for urban word.
and take a deep breath before considering the jump

Saturday, January 15, 2005

talking to a fellow poet yesterday. he says he's miserable. says it helps his art. i agreed wholeheartedly. why when we as artists are in an emotional rut are the best masterpieces created?

while i was watching the L Word, i was fascinated (& disgusted) by a chatacter who was a writer and had a great boyfriend and had crazy writers block. but as soon as she starts cheating on him -- she writes her first story with ease. she thrives during this emotionally bankruptcy and i understood. i had witnessed the same thing happen to other artists. artists who didn't have the guts to go for what they needed or hell, maybe they didn't know what they needed. but, to distract them from the real issue at hand -- they reached into pandora's box and waited for a creative miracle. they needed some havoc so that their artform could soar. scary isn't it. to know that people instigate and provoke drama for the sake of their creative oats!?

so, we talked about being happy & how boring it was. when i realized - no one wants to be happy. happy poems don't move people. i think that is a functin of people not knowing how to be happy. some of us think for IT to be right we have to hear the music sound as prince charming rides up on a horse with an engagement ring a 501k plan and size 13 shoe. or some of us are waiting for the woman of dreams to walk into our life arms opened wide, with a beer in one hand and lingerie in the other, balancing a physics book on her pretty head with a cinched waist and masking tape over her smile. these are almost the most unattainable characters known to humankind.

point is, i think we like the pain. the not knowing. the adrenaline rush. the stomach aches or butterflies (same difference) the sweat. the anxiety -- it makes you think you are REALLY alive (thx the maxx) and all of that is seductive and very addictive. we think sitting in a house with a person who doesn't move our insides like the movies pretty woman or love jones, is just a rut. a state of stagnancy. pure pergatory.

in the L word, they accused the writer in the woman of looking for drama so that she could finally feel something worth writing about. i challenged my fellow poet - forget misery. learn how to be happy. its much healthier in the long run.

Friday, January 14, 2005

i love this flick
watched it 3 times in 2 days. its about being pushed around, a failure, computer romance and a mexican with a sweet ten speed. the little girl from corrina corrina is in it -- she rocks. and the lead actor (forgot his name) is absolutely hilarious! but beneath the sarcasim and dry humor. is a story about security, friendship, acceptance and self-reflection.

i had class today with my girls at the district attorney's office (for young women offenders) and i was flipping out in the middle of the writing session. we did the usual writing exercises (i.e., say a word and write all the things that come to mind. i say "women" they write ho, slut, bitch, big ass, pretty hair, nice lips - stuff like that) when we started talking about life and religion and God and anger and death. one of my girls is adament about wanting to be dead. says it has to be better than this.

i sat quietly. let her peers talk to her about her reasons for wanting to die. she didn't waver. not one bit. the only time i saw emotion from this 14 year old self-proclaimed lesbian, was when she talked about her grandmother passing two weeks prior. i understood completely. she said her grandmother was the only person that understood her and she didn't believe in God because he took away a faithful and loyal woman. i could see her pain. it poured from her silence. it was heavy and i couldn't hold it if i wanted to.

i intervened. told her i understood depression. i had been fighting bouts for months now. it has been a year since my grandmother passed and i still haven't erased her number from my cell phone. i still tear up when i think about her. and i still am angry when i think of how she passed. it wasn't her time. but i had to busy myself. worry about my writing. stain her memory on society. build a legacy in her honor. surround myself with successful and aspiring people. i told her this with choked tears. it was sad. watching a grown woman and a young lady connect on some death shyt.
and she's such an incredible writer. her thoughts are beyond her years, but the pain is what scares me. im scared she won't get past the pain. she hates god. says he doesnt want to be happy. says he doesnt like gays and he took away the only person who knew her. class ended too soon. so i asked her to write about it. think of the things her grandmother wanted for her and the choices she would make to change her life for the better. she seemed undaunted. looked away frequently and said farewell.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

ive been working on a couple of writing exercises. let's do one together.

write about the AL-Jeezra video (where the US marines walked in on a mosque filled with dead and wounded people and killed a wounded man). write from the perspective of an inanimate object viewing this disgusting tragedy. something that happens more than CNN & BBC would like us to know.
here is a link for more information... http://www.mykeru.com/weekly/2004_1114_1120.html#111604

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

i hold grudges. i really do. i am trying to get that taurean character out of my system -- though i know it may be a futile attempt, the fact that i am conscious of it may curb some of its setbacks. i am ready to forgive these people, even if i can not be around them. so here it goes:

mom: i understand you have to live your life. i am sorry i dont agree with all the things that have done and continue to do. i wish you the best.

father: i understand you have to live your life. i am sorry i dont agree with all the things that you have done and continue to do. i will no longer blame you for my apprehensiveness towards men. i am certain you did the best that you knew how. i wish you the best.

brother: i understand you have to live your life. i am sorry i dont agree with all the things that you have done and continue to do. i hope you find a space that will allow you growth as a person and a father. i wish you the best.

i have to work on the rest of the list... what's your resolution(s)? now be honest.

Saturday, January 08, 2005

im here
in rainy california
southern cali - so no, toni tony tone didnt tell the whole truth
its ben raining for a minute
5 days on and off to be exact

been watching fear factor marathons
and real world marathons
all this reality makes me wanna slap the hell
outta people

great sales on the book! waiting for another shipment
its landed somewhere in bklyn
will get those out to ya'll soon

feel like the most beautiful boogeyman (mos def)
is haunting me. thats a good thing.
anxious about the nu show in manhattan (feb 12th: JAM ON IT! @ pianos nyc) nice classy piano bar
with a funky bohemian twist

thought about cutting off my hair
starting new
made resolutions
whispered them to him while he was sleepn
memorized them in the mirror

maybe i will share them with you next week
that way - i have an incentive to accomplish
some personal growth.

Friday, January 07, 2005

this gravy don't get no betta
hot and thick
like brown waves of liquid be
no milshake references here
i be
woman
love me or leave me the fuk alone
no clones can dismiss the complexity
that holds my pheremones
closed fists
to the air for injustice
ive been looking for some substance
but can't find anything more than categories
bitches, hos and queens
im beyond these things
beyond the bling
and the snickering
beyond one night stands
and can i share your man

this frame is more than mother to the world
but mother to original concepts

bigger than cats who live just to get the mic wet
i live to get your mind wet
plant seeds and watch the leaves fall
lets brainstorm
feed our children
prepare for war
cause its coming
and been on the way

sirens will sound the same
when the tsunami hit down
silence
then death
and im not waiting for you to get right
either step in line
or hide

i know a coward when i see one
your shade dont change with the weather
but chameleons do it faster and better
you are just a clone
pretending to own your own thoughts
but you too scared to scream
closed mouths dont get fed
and neither do spiritual bulemic word fiends

stop pressing pause
hurry up and go
wake up smell the syannide
it taste like redemption song
and progress
struggle and regret
pain and purpose
life hurts but learn this

real things happen
there are no actors
no dialogue manufactured
no roles to capture
that damsel in distress shyt is played
id rather be a soldier on the frontline
than a simple bed maid

and this aint nothing for the masses
this can not be taught in classes
integrity can not be smeared like osmosis
and respect is earned

im on some queen mother moore shyt
some pam grier and afro sheen shyt
some powerful woman with no disclaimers
i am who i be fuk shame
cause this gravy feeds families
saves lives
offers hope
protects the weak
and taste like the truth
lumps and all

and its over
one day
u wake
no ill will
no bad feelings
spilled milk cleaned from emotional floors
still don't shine like it used to
but
it's
over
this feeling of contempt
disenchantment
no more bad dreams
no paranoia
just indifference
and sometimes
yea, sometimes
these things don't work out

don't find nice spaces on shelves
polished with expectations
don't swoon like new love
don't believe in love
these things are indelieble
unforgiving
and unyielding
they stick like gum
and funk
and hate
and its simple

simple enough to ignore
to denounce
to rethink into the ground
the what if (s)
the should have (s)
and the disbelief
unbelievably
present
undeniable
it happened
no one can forget it
memories are never forgotten
just misplaced
and its unfortunate
that these things happen
at all

i had an incredible time!
they said theo from the cosby show was in the audience
shihan and poetri from def jam shared the bill
great crowd
sold out of product, 6 books left
can't be mad at that
danced a bit
felt a lil sick -- had fun though
starting to write a new piece

share it with you in the morning! or afternoon? lol

need a nap -- waiting for this coffee to wear off! jive and i head to another dance class tomorrow!
breaking for beginners... he's da man at that -- im just trynna learn a lil sumthin-sumthin

i had a really realistic dream. so real that i was mad when i woke up and wanted to hit someone. it had an odious aftertaste.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

back from mexico...
performing at da poetry lounge tonite
flypoet showcase tomorrow
maybe we will try jet skiing...weather permitting
mexico was crazy!
we were extorted by the mexican police for 80 bucks!
he tried to get us for $1000 thank goodness one of us is bilingual! lol
resort was nice.
lobster dinners every nite. beautiful scenery, we were atop a hill overlooking the beach...
couldnt talk him into getting in the jacuzzi but we did get to see the palapa! (what is a palapa you ask??) i have the pics -- i will put them up later and you can see for yourself.
talk to you soon... gotta get ready for the show...

Monday, January 03, 2005

read a review the other day. it was about a poetry show in canada. the bill listed some dope poets and performers from the US and from Canada. unfortunately, all the reviewer could talk about was the sex appeal of the poets. she never showed one ounce of interest in the literary value of these professional poets, but made sure she memorized the sweat and bend and innuendo and moistness of her under garments.

herein lies our problem. poets that tour for a living are put in a position where their words and actions are taken to mean the same thing. if they get on the mic and speak about fidelity then get off stage and have an illustruous affair with a nameless faceless audience member -- they would be considered a hypocrite at the least. but, it seems the sword cuts both ways. the same poets, that we condemn for sleeping around are the poets who are frowned upon when declining advances. during a conversation with two poets, i being the only female, i was astounded to hear them say its worse for a women poet to sleep around rather than a male poet (arugement note: wrong because a woman could end up pregnant 5 states later and not know how the father is. but a man who gets someone pregnant doesn't have the same responsiblity *gasp* therefore his actions are less horrendous). i feel the blame should be placed regardless of gender. the responsiblity lies on the adults involved. it relies on the poets who pose as a different individual on stage and live as another person off stage.

this is not an argument about humans and their flaws. flaws -- are perfect. i can dig those. its the manipulation of words and the persons who know how to use it against the masses. in my argument with the male poets on that long commuter's drive, i debated the role that male poets played and the fact that they took advantage of the unsuspecting women listeners. now i am NOT saying all women in the audience are naive and innocent. i have watched women back talk and back track and slither their way around in hopes of sleeping with a poet. but i also feel, these men; as unavailable and happy at home as they might lead a women to believe during poems 2, 3 and 4; have a responsiblity to their partner and to their fans and more importantly -- to their work. if you say you are all about loving one woman, and you bed 3 women during your tour overseas - then you are not the man you portray in these poems.

but, if you play the game. serenade women after the show. go for drinks, hang out, party -- become intimate -- you may receive a great review from someone who rather bed you than respect you.

as poets and lovers of the art form, we have to start appreciating our writers for their dedication to the art. its unfair to them and its unfair to the legacy of work that is written for our learning, enjoyment and enrichment. these same poets that were glorified for their sex appeal, i wonder -- how would they feel if their words were undressed and panted over...